


Streetlights - The Mystery Text (Mini Ficlet) Jamie's POV.

by claryclark



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 08:05:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16237538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claryclark/pseuds/claryclark
Summary: Hello all!! I really wanted to include this little snippet from Jamie’s POV but I couldn’t find a place for it in any of the main chapters so I thought I’d just throw it in as a short ficlet. I know it doesn’t so much as answer questions as create more BUT I think it provides some important context to Jamie’s mindset. And I promise it won’t be long before the rest of the blanks are filled in! As always thank you all so much for reading- can’t wait to hear what you think!





	Streetlights - The Mystery Text (Mini Ficlet) Jamie's POV.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!! I really wanted to include this little snippet from Jamie’s POV but I couldn’t find a place for it in any of the main chapters so I thought I’d just throw it in as a short ficlet. I know it doesn’t so much as answer questions as create more BUT I think it provides some important context to Jamie’s mindset. And I promise it won’t be long before the rest of the blanks are filled in! As always thank you all so much for reading- can’t wait to hear what you think!

The Mystery Text 

April 20th, 2019 

I dinna ken how long I stood there, on the street outside my flat, I only ken it was well after I’d lost sight of her before I finally forced myself to go back inside. I felt like I had whiplash. It had been a constant build with her. From the day I saw her on the rugby pitch - the bonny 4th year from biology class I’d thought of so often over the years - I’d felt drawn to her, orbiting her, getting closer and closer. She was weary, broken, that much I could see. I kent I had to be careful, and even as fiercely as I wanted her, I would have gladly waited forever. I’ll never find words to define the feeling that swelled in my heart when she bid me farewell at the hospital that day. She’d pretended to be talking about his busted shoulder. But I kent the truth of her words. She asked me for patience. She asked me for time. Her face was always open, but in that moment she let me see her fears, her broken edges, and the faint hope for something more. It took all that I had not to fall to my knees right then and there. I wanted desperately to tell her that she needn’t ask for my time or my patience. All of it was hers.

Once I was back in my flat, I started up the coffee maker and gently placed the empty whiskey glasses from the night before in the sink. I stood there in my kitchen thinking for a long time. Claire Beauchamp was a walking contradiction. She was so open, so incapable of deceit and yet she was damn near impossible to figure out. I’d been so sure that I saw the want in her eyes, a scorching blaze that matched the one burning in his own. I was so sure she’d wanted me. Had I let my own ravenous desire for her cloud my vision? Had she given me signals that I’d missed? I was absolutely sick with the thought of it. 

And yet I couldna regret those few magical hours that she’d spent in my bed and in my arms. I had woken deep in the night, blinking hard several times to assure myself that it wasn’t a dream. She’d lain on her back, a few inches away, her brown mass o’ curls rioting about with abandon. I couldna stop smiling as I looked at her. Her mouth hung open the slightest bit and she made quiet little breathy sounds, not quite a snore. Her arm was flung across her forehead. On impulse, I took it gently in my hand, bringing her delicate wrist to my lips and pressing a feather light kiss to her the spot where her pulse beat underneath her skin. She’d made a sound then, almost like a cross between a sigh and a whimper. It was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard in my life. I kent then that I was a goner. It was almost embarrassing, how besotted I was, but I didna care. I’d turned her on her side then, curving my body behind her, my arm around her middle keeping her pressed close against me. I slipped back into sleep with my nose buried in her hair, feeling the rise and fall of her steady, even breathing under the palm of my hand.

I’d woken almost immediately when she got out of bed. I smirked a little too myself when I saw her put on my dress shirt and laid there quietly, waiting, thinking of what I wanted to do to her when she crawled back into my bed. But she never did. The way she looked at me as she dressed was like a bucket of icy water, pulling me from my cozy reverie. She was so closed off from me and it didna make sense. I didna want her to go, but I could scarcely force her to stay.

I moped around my flat for a long while after she left, refusing to look at my phone. I kent she wouldna text me once she’d gotten home like I’d asked her to, but I didna want to face the reality of it. Not yet anyway. I felt like an absolute brut and I cursed myself for my insensitivity. I didna ken the full story of why she’d left Boston but I kent she’d been hurt badly. And now I’d pushed her too far, too fast.

I was laying face down on my couch, my self-berating pity party still in full swing when I heard my phone ring. My heart leapt out of my chest thinking it was Claire and in my haste to answer it, I ended up tripping over my own feet and falling flat on my face.

“Ifrinn!” I groaned, rubbing my tender forehead as I staggered to my feet.

In any event, it was Jenny’s name flashing across my screen, not Claire’s. I almost answered it; it was very unusual for Jenny to be calling this early on a Saturday morning. But I didna feel like talking to my sister right now. I sent the call to voicemail and was about to return to my wallowing when I saw the messages. Three of them.

I can’t stop thinking about the other night. I love you. Call me when you wake up.

It doesn’t have to be like this.

Please?

“Christ.” I yelled at no one in particular, looking up at the ceiling, praying for patience. The texts were from a number I’d never seen before, but I kent exactly who had sent them.

I immediately called Jenny back, knowing this was likely the reason for her unusually early morning call.

She answered after one ring. “Have ye heard from her then?”

“Aye.” I confirmed, sounding suddenly very old and tired. “You?”

“Aye.” She said, sounding almost as worn down as he. “I’ll call Ned Gowan, and we’ll make our way down to London by the end of the week.”

I swallowed hard. “God, I wish it didna have to be this way.”

“So do I.” She said quietly. “But I cannae see that we have any other choice. Can you?”

“No.”

A long silence then, and faint sniffle.

“She’s already taken so much from us. From you. We willna let her take anymore. Aye?”

“Aye.” I said gruffly.

After I hung up, I thought for the first time that morning that maybe it was a good thing that Claire didna want me. 

Lord kens, there wasna much of me left.

 

Check back soon for Chapter Six!

**Author's Note:**

> Check back soon for Chapter Six of Streetlights!


End file.
